


Moving Ever On

by turps



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:09:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for SeSa 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Ever On

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ephemera and Nopseud for beta reading.

  
"Remember, the MTV people will be filming here next week." Johnny taps his fingers against the notebook on his lap and looks around the room, his gaze skirting over them all. "They’re going to tape a few meetings and rehearsals, do a few interviews, the usual ‘making of’ routine, you know how it is."

"Cameras up our ass, filming every move we make. Yeah, we know." Justin leans back in his chair, already resigned to weeks of constant filming. The inconvenience is something they’ll handle for the face time on MTV.

"The weekend’s yours, gentlemen. Enjoy it." Johnny gathers the set designs spread across the table, sliding the glossy pages together as he stands. "I’ll see you, Monday."

"Anyone else hear the implied, ‘it’s the last free time you’ll get’?" Joey slumps forward, hands cupping his face. His fingers don’t hide the curve of his mouth as JC collapses against him, his head resting against Joey’s shoulder.

"I heard it, loud and clear." Lance lays his hand on JC’s leg and turns to face Joey, leaning forward so he can look him in the eye. "Two days off before weeks of rehearsal, months of touring. Hours on the bus, performing every night, snatching down time wherever we can."

Joey’s fingers move, his grin peeking over the top. "Dancing and singing, spending twenty-four seven with you freaks." He drops his hands, and snakes an arm around JC, squeezing him hard. "I’ve missed it too."

Laughter muffled against Joey’s side, JC allows himself to be pulled upright, back arched, his arm looped around Joey’s waist as they make a break for freedom.

"They’re insane." Chris shakes his head, earrings glinting as he watches Lance open the door for the many-limbed giggling creature that is Joey and JC. "Missed touring. As if." Chris shrugs, a dismissive gesture that rolls through his body from shoulders to toes, his energy fighting to escape, hijacking any movement and making it more. "Come on. You can make me dinner tonight."

"I can?" Justin questions, but even as he speaks he holds out his hand, letting Chris pull him to his feet. They’re standing chest to chest and Justin is looking down over Chris’ hair which flops messily across his forehead, over the round of his cheeks, the shadow of dark lashes and slope of nose.

"You’re so big." Chris rests one hand on Justin’s chest and flutters his eyelashes, head tilted to one side as he looks up at with wide-open eyes. "Strong, too, I bet."

"Bigger than you, that’s for sure." Grinning, Justin steps back and Chris sighs, long and loud.

"Such disrespect." Gaze mournful, Chris shakes his head. "It never used to be that way."

"Just keep telling yourself that." Justin laughs as Chris sighs again. "You finished? Because I’m hungry."

"I’m done." Instantly Chris’ shoulders straighten, his mouth slides up into a smile and he exits the room, Justin a few steps behind.

~*~*~*~

"There’s left-overs. Macaroni and cheese I think." Justin peels the lid from a bowl, poking his finger at the congealed mess inside.

"That looks like something a cat would puke up." Chris leans over, shaking his head. His hand is resting against Justin’s hip, his hair brushing against Justin’s cheek. "You actually ate that?"

"It was fine yesterday." Justin pokes again, grimacing at the resulting wobble. "I think we’ll have sandwiches." He dumps the offending pasta in the garbage and places the bowl in the sink while Chris rummages in the fridge, laying out packets of meat and cheese.

"There’s a new bottle of mayo at the back." Justin washes his hands, soap squishing through his fingers as he rubs them under the hot water. He dries them on a towel, then takes a chopping board and sharp knife. Places them on the counter and reaches for the bread.

Fingers pressed against the crusty loaf, Justin carefully cuts even slices. He stops at eight and wraps the loaf in its paper, folding and tucking until it’s covered completely once more.

"Ham, tomato and mayo, right?" At Chris’ nod, Justin arranges four of the slices in a row and pulls a packet from the pile on the counter. The waxed paper crinkles in his hands as he uncovers thick slices of ham, placing them onto the bread. Tomato next, and seeds slide over Justin’s fingers as he cuts then arranges the slices. He absently sucks at his fingers, licking at the juice, then takes the mayo bottle, squeezing it out in wavy lines before adding more bread. Two quick cuts and the sandwiches are done, and Justin slides them onto a plate and across to Chris.

"Thanks." Chris picks up his sandwich and takes a bite, chewing as he watches Justin make his own.

"Good?" Justin finishes making his own meal and sits, hooking his feet around the legs of the stool.

"You know they’re good." Chris wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing mayo across his lips. "You need to come live with me and make me sandwiches every day."

"Sorry man, you lost that opportunity long ago." Justin takes a bite, chewing doughy bread and crisp lettuce between his teeth. "You snooze, you lose."

Chris looks at Justin with narrowed eyes, a smile curling the corner of his mouth. "If I’d known you’d turn into some kind of sandwich making genius I would have worked harder at looking past the geeky kid."

"Like I was ever a geek. There was only one geek back then and it wasn’t me. Remember the braids and braces?"

"Remember someone turning up in my room in the middle of the night? Saying how good we’d be together?" Chris looks at Justin, his smile flowing into laughter. "Those pyjamas you wore have to be the geekiest thing ever, and you expected to seduce me in them."

"What can I say? They were comfortable?" Justin grins, remembering splashing on Joey’s aftershave and sneaking into Chris’ room, and the look on Chris face when he had woken up and found Justin there. That crush and the embarrassment it caused seem a lifetime ago now, and Justin waves his hand in Chris’ direction. "You know, some people would pay good money to see me in my pyjamas."

"That’s because some people are insane," Chris says, and Justin can only agree.

~*~*~*~

Chris goes home and Justin spends the weekend preparing for the tour. He wanders around his house and feeds his fish, takes time washing dishes, his hands plunged into soapy water, carefully wiping away smears. When he’s finished the kitchen gleams, countertops shining and appliances sparkling as he leans against the fridge and gulps down water, pitching the bottle into the trash when he’s done.

Humming under his breath he clicks off the lights, bare feet padding against slate then thick carpet as he wanders upstairs, where he flops onto his bed, arms outstretched on the freshly laundered sheets. Justin listens to the quiet of his house, the soft burr of the air conditioning, the muffled sound of his mom watching tv in the den below, a unique mixture that says home. It’s a place he’ll see only fleetingly in the months to come.

~*~*~*~

Justin pulls on his hat, picks up his bag, and locks the door behind him. Jumping down the steps to his drive, he hurries to his car, throwing the bag onto the backseat as he slides behind the wheel. He shifts in his seat, long legs bending into place, adjusting the mirror so it’s exactly right. He clicks on a CD and lowers the roof as he drives away, singing along when he gathers speed, the words torn from his mouth by the rush of early morning air.

Hands relaxed on the wheel, Justin sings louder, harmonising as the energy buzzes under his skin. He keeps singing as he enters the compound grounds, grinning at the guard who opens the gates.

Inside, he parks, shutting off the music as he grabs for his bag, looping it over his chest as he leans against the warm metal of his car. Justin’s the first here and he’s content to wait, basking in the sun before heading inside. Anticipation coils deep as he waits, radiating warmth as he imagines the crowds that yell his name, the rolling sea of people and the screams that crash over the stage.

Justin loves that feeling, the power he wields, the crowd held in their spell. It’s his life, his dream, and he’ll do whatever’s needed to achieve that dream.

"I hope they’re good."

Justin starts at JC’s whisper, his breath warm against Justin’s ear. "What?" Confused, Justin looks at JC who grins wide, obviously pleased at catching him unaware.

"Your thoughts, you were lost in them."

"Oh. No. I was thinking about being onstage." Even as JC laughs, Justin knows he understands, can relate to the exhilaration of performing.

"You can tell me all about it while we grab a coffee." Hooking his fingers through Justin’s bag, JC tugs, using it to pull him into the building and the kitchen where the coffee pot magically remains full at all times.

~*~*~*~

Dosed with caffeine, JC hurries toward the couch, bouncing with each step. Justin watches as he flops between Joey and Lance, making himself comfortable as the other two fit around him, flowing together in a way that’s the result of years of being constantly side by side.

Justin sits next to Chris and greets him with an elbow to the side and a grin. This close Justin can feel the warmth of Chris’ body and he leans toward him. Chris shifts restlessly in place, foot tapping in empty space. Every movement is familiar and Justin can’t help the pull of his smile as he rests his hand against Chris’ thigh.

"Let’s get this meeting started." Johnny walks into the room, papers in his hand as he sinks into the last chair. He slouches down, almost horizontal and looks around the room. "I think the bottom line is we need to start talking about what the set list is gonna be. Do we open the show with Bye Bye Bye?"

"Probably, No Strings," JC interrupts.

"No Strings Attached."

"I don’t think we should do Bye Bye Bye, because no one likes it." Justin deadpans, talking over Johnny. Laughter follows his words.

"So we’ll start with No Strings." Johnny takes control of the conversation and Justin listens and suggests songs, normality already slipping away, to be replaced by a life ruled by the tour. He can’t wait to begin.

~*~*~*~

"You all just want to see me scream like a girl." Chris frowns and pokes at a page covered with Lance’s messy scrawl. "Dropping down from that height’s crazy."

"It would look good." Justin feels bad, knowing Chris’ fear is genuine, but he knows Lance’s idea is a good one. He also knows that Chris can see that too.

"We can think of another way to start the show." Lance looks down, fingers hovering over his drawing of them dropping to the floor. He traces over stick Joey’s rope and Justin knows he’s imagining the thrill of plummeting through the air.

"No. It’s okay." Chris blinks, mouth a thin line as he watches Lance’s hand. "You’ve got my vote."

Justin can feel Chris’ leg brush against his own, hear his foot nervously tapping against the floor, and Justin knows he’ll always associate that sound with fear.

"Okay, Digital Getdown?" JC breaks the silence and shuffles through the stack of papers on the table, spreading them out as Justin bumps Chris’ leg with his own. An unspoken message that Chris acknowledges with a quirk of his lips as Joey explains his idea.

~*~*~*~

Justin’s doorbell rings while he’s watching Divorce Court on tv. Uncurling from the couch, he places his glass on the coaster and leaves the O’Donnels to argue over their dog to an empty room.

His socks slide over the floor as he hurries across the hall, frantic knocking identifying the caller before he even opens the door.

"Tearing Up My Heart, right?"

Chris’ fist stops inches from Justin’s chest. "Score one for Timberlake."

The lift of his lips, the gleam of his eyes suggests this is more than a casual visit, and Justin steps back, ushering Chris inside. "I don’t get called a musical genius for nothing."

"You’re delusional, J," Chris says as he walks past and looks over his shoulder. "JC’s the musical genius. You know that."

"Yeah right." Justin dismisses that idea with a wave of his hand, knowing Chris will take it as the non-insult it is. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were going out with Dani."

"I did." Chris shrugs, body tensing as he walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. "Now I’m here."

Chris’ shirt hitches up at the back as he bends to look inside and Justin focuses on that strip of skin, staring while Chris takes too long to select a drink.

"Do you want anything?" Chris eventually straightens and turns, fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of a bottle.

"I’m good," Justin says, and he’s all too aware of the set of Chris’ shoulders, the unhappy twist of his mouth. Combined they scream ‘back away’, but Justin has no boundaries when it comes to Chris and ignores the warnings. "Is there something wrong?"

"Should there be?" Chris pops open his beer, hooking the cap over the counter and slamming down his hand. It’s something Justin’s seen him do a thousand times before and he waits for Chris to raise the bottle to his lips, to swallow hard. Chris wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyelids sliding shut as he looks at the floor. "We ended it tonight, in private anyway. She’s sticking around in public."

Shocked, Justin searches for words, watching while Chris rocks from foot to foot.

"It’s okay. I mean, the signs were there, right? And it’s better it ended now while we’re still friends." Chris picks at the label of the bottle, tiny scraps of paper fluttering to the floor. "Better now than later when we’d hate each other, because boy, do those hitmen cost big bucks."

"Chris...." Justin falters, meaningless platitudes filling his head, but none of them are right, so he steps forward and pulls Chris into a hug, holding tight until Chris finally relaxes and lets his arms drop, his head resting against Justin’s shoulder, a whispered _’I miss her already’_ soft against Justin’s neck.

~*~*~*~

"I though they wanted me to pay for the treadmills." Joey sounds incredulous as he sets the bottle of champagne on the table. "Seventy-four thousands dollars. Kelly would kill me."

"You can afford it." Amusement visible in the crinkle of his eyes, the slant of mouth, Lance leans back in his chair. "Kelly would understand."

"You don’t have to live with her." Joey shudders theatrically, his love for Kelly shown in every exaggerated movement. He rubs his hand through Lance’s hair, laughing as he’s slapped away.

Justin watches them as he takes the bottle, tearing at the paper that covers the cork. Kelly is someone Justin likes, and also respects for holding on to her man. He knows how difficult it is when your relationship is under the public’s gaze. He’s had experience of that himself while his love for Britney burned bright and new, then having to endure the constant surveillance as it stuttered and changed. Desire changing into friendship as the cameras clicked, and he acted the part of his life as the public watched his every move.

"Are you going to open that or just play with it?" JC stands, his chair scraping across the floor. Blithely ignoring Justin’s protests, he plucks the bottle from his hands and pulls back the wire, easing out the cork with a soft pop.

"I could have done that." Justin protests and takes his glass, holding it out as JC circles the table, pouring them all drinks.

"No, what you would have done is shook it up and wasted half the bottle spraying us all."

Justin thinks about protesting, words of denial on his lips. He bites them back, memories of sodden clothes and rooms glistening with champagne too numerous to ignore.

"JC’s right, J. You can’t be trusted opening a bottle." Memories reflect in Chris’ eyes, poorly concealed laughter obvious as he swirls his drink, his fingers twisted around the stem of the glass.

"Like you’re any better." Smile wrapped around his glass, Joey sips at his own drink, blinking as the bubbles burst against his nose.

Laughter fills the room, and Justin wants to always remember this moment, the contentment and happiness he feels sitting with these men who are as close as kin. Knowing they’re on the verge of something huge, something that will change their lives again.

"A toast." Lance holds up his glass, and looks at them all. "To us."

~*~*~*~

Justin’s been awake for hours, eating cereal in his sunny kitchen where a small tv relays the news. The worldwide reports remind him that life exists beyond the confines of the compound and his own home.

It’s day three of learning new choreography and Justin parks and bounds up the steps, hips swinging and hands raised as he steps through the doorway and twists in a tight circle, sneakers squeaking against the floor. Faint music is audible inside and Justin picks up the beat, shimmying along the corridor, his fingers snapping together until he pushes open the rehearsal room door.

It’s brightly lit inside, and Wade stands in the centre of the room, staring at the mirrors as he dances to Bye Bye Bye. His t-shirt sticks to his back and Wade stops dancing, tugging at it, peeling material from skin.

"Hi," Justin says, including the MTV cameraman in his greeting as he drops his bag against the wall. Energy buzzes and he can’t wait to get moving. He takes a swig of water before dropping to the floor, warming up as Wade looks at his watch and restarts the CD.

Back on his feet, Justin is bent almost double, fingers wrapped around his ankle, when Joey and Lance arrive; the glare of Lance’s orange pants makes Justin blink hard.

"Chris and JC are following," Joey says, interpreting the set of Wade’s mouth and significant look at the door.

Justin changes to his other ankle and watches. He’s waiting to see Chris and a smile tugs at his mouth when the door opens and JC hurries inside, white flip flops slapping against the floor and one long toe circled by a glinting silver ring, a total contrast to the practical blue sneakers that Chris wears.

Wise to the ways of the Chris, Justin straightens before hand meets ass and watches as Chris grins knowingly then sits and pulls up the legs of his pants, adjusting the braces that circle his knees before moving into his own warm up routine.

"You okay?"

Chris freezes in a stretch at Justin’s quiet question, looking up with his head tilted to one side. "I’m fine."

Aware of the camera, Justin lets the answer slide, and he steps back into place when the familiar notes of No Strings fill the air.

As one they slip into the routine, attempting steps they saw the first time only two days before. Justin follows directions, concentrating and counting beats as he watches himself in the mirror, assessing the way he looks, the way they interact as a group. The routine isn’t perfect, it never is this early. Joey turns three beats two fast, Chris and JC collide, Lance forgets his steps completely and curses under his breath as he attempts them anyway and then Justin points up as the others point down.

It’ll take hard work to be perfect, but Justin knows it’s worth the effort, and when Wade claps his hands and yells, _’again’_ , they’ll do it, however long it takes.

~*~*~*~

"We were just getting it together, and getting it set in our heads so when we get on the stage then we can start to stage it and feel comfortable with it, and feel confident about it." Justin finishes talking about their choreography and looks at the cameraman. "Is that okay?"

"That’s great and all I need today, so I’ll see you in the morning."

"Not if I see you first." Justin grins and stands, ready to go home after a day that seems to have lasted about a week. He gathers his belongings, bag over his shoulder, car keys held in one hand and waves goodbye to assorted staff as he finally heads out.

Justin pulls off his hat as he steps outside, throwing it towards his car and punching at the air when it arcs and drops neatly into the backseat. Feeling the breeze against his neck, Justin rubs his fingers through his hair, before taking a moment to stretch, hands to the sky, sighing a little at the pleasurable pull of his spine.

The guard waves and Justin smiles in response. He plans his evening; shower then dinner, watching tv and an early night, easy activities to balance the rest of the day.

His house smells of tomato and garlic as Justin steps inside. There’s mail piled on a side table and he scans through it as he walks through to the kitchen, laughing at a postcard scrawled in Trace’s messy hand. He’s trying to work out how a sheep would fit into Trace’s car when he comes into the kitchen, unsurprised to see Chris talking to his mom.

"Hey." Chris is standing at the stove, stirring the contents of a pan. He lifts out the spoon, blowing then licking at a red sauce. "Lynn’s making us spaghetti, want a taste?"

Justin shrugs. "Sure." Years of ‘accidentally’ tipped spoons make Justin wrap his fingers around Chris’ hand, holding it steady as he sips from the spoon. "It’s good - Gamma’s recipe right?"

"Sure is." Lynn smiles through a cloud of steam as she shakes a spaghetti-filled colander over the sink. The scent reminds Justin just how hungry he is.

"It’ll be ready in a minute if you want to wash up." Piling spaghetti onto three plates, Lynn takes the spoon from Chris, ladling rich red sauce over each one.

Stomach growling, Justin washes his hands and hurries back to the table to sit down. He takes slices of garlic bread from the platter in the centre, crunching through the crust and soft centre, butter coating his lips with each bite.

They eat without conversation, Justin and Chris refilling their plates as Lynn pours drinks and picks at her food, well used to appetites made keen by days of practice.

"Did you finish filming your segment?" Lynn pats at her mouth with her napkin, blotting away the stains on her lips. Justin scrapes a piece of bread across his plate.

"The part about choreography, yeah." Swallowing the sauce-sodden bread, Justin sits back, hands resting on his stomach and watches Chris suck up a strand of spaghetti between pursed lips.

"Are you staying over?" Despite already knowing the answer, Justin asks anyway.

The spaghetti slithers into Chris’ mouth and he answers seconds too late. "Not tonight, I’d better spend some time at home, take care of mail, make sure the cleaner hasn’t robbed me blind." He sets down his fork and it clatters against the plate. "Not until later though, like, after Cops at least."

Lynn stands, indicating the dishes with a sweep of her hand. "I’ll clean up; you two go and watch tv."

"We can help."

"I know you can, but I can manage." Lynn smiles at Chris, taking his empty plate.

"Thanks, mom." Justin presses a kiss against his mom’s cheek as she ruffles her hand through his hair.

The den is dimly lit by lamps, and Justin sinks down onto one of the couches. He kicks off his sneakers and tucks up his feet, arms clasped around his legs as Chris flops down next to him with a sigh. This is Chris taking his usual place, curled into the corner of the couch to watch tv. It’s what he’s done for weeks now, and Justin always joins him, needing to be the best friend he can be.

"Wade’s one of Satan’s minions." Chris bends forward, rubbing at his calf. "Those moves he showed us today were formed in the fires of hell."

"They look good though."

Chris looks up, fingers stilled across his tattoo. "You were doing the _chicken_ dance."

"It’s a representation of digital movement in a cyber world. You know this." Justin ignores Chris’ snort and roll of his eyes, because it’s _not_ the chicken dance, and even it were, Justin still makes it look good.

"Whatever." Hand raised dismissively, Chris clicks through the channels to find Cops, stopping as the familiar tune fills the air.

Justin thinks about protesting further, but sometimes it’s just easier to accept that Chris gets the last word and bypass the inevitable debate and flying hands, so Justin can finally relax into the soft hold of his couch. Head back, he idly listens as a cop talks about his patrol, boring stuff that becomes background noise as Justin’s eyes drift closed.

He wakes to the sound of gunfire and pressure against his lap. Sleep-dim, Justin rolls his hips with a soft sigh, muted pleasure pooling deep inside with each tiny shift. Eyelids sliding shut, he looks down and realises it’s Chris who’s pressed against him, relaxed in sleep, his breath hot against Justin’s inner thighs.

Years ago, this was his dream, but not now, and Justin forces himself to still, uncomfortably turned on as he wonders what to do. Faced with a choice of waking Chris and the teasing that will surely follow, or trying to slide free, Justin decides to move. He inches forward, and Chris moves with him, sighing and snuggling even closer.

Frozen, Justin waits until Chris settles, then jumps when he hears his mom yell.

"Justin, you need to wake up." Lynn walks into the room clicking off the lamps and Justin slides to the side, his heart racing as he takes the opportunity to break free.

"You too, Chris."

Chris groans when Lynn leans over and shakes his shoulder. He pushes himself upright. "So much for going home." Chris yawns and rubs at his face, his fingers tracing the sleep creases crossing his cheek. "You make a good pillow." He looks at Justin, a smile pulling at his mouth. "Good to know your crotch is good for more than teasing the teenies."

"Yeah, whatever." Justin leans forward into a stretch, easing the ache in his back. He looks at the floor, at his sneakers abandoned under the table, anything to avoid looking at Chris, and the reawakened memories of a crush he thought he’d left behind years before.

~*~*~*~

Justin turns to the side and slides back, watching himself move in the wall of mirrors, ensuring every step is the best it can be.

"Oh my god! Whatever happened to the days when we went down to the mall and picked out shirts for our show?"

Aware of Wade’s unforgiving gaze, Justin glances up briefly at Chris, who stands with the clothes budget clasped in his hand. He looks shocked at the figures and Justin understands why. The numbers _are_ high, but to be the best they have to use the best. Still, as Justin keeps moving, striving to get the choreography down, he can’t help remembering when they did buy their clothes from the mall. How carefully they budgeted for matching outfits, the money for all their clothes the equivalent to less than one pair of light-up pants. It seems a lifetime ago. Except Justin feels he can reach out his hand and touch that time. Long forgotten memories mixing with the now.

"You can’t see the prices; you might want to edit that out."

Chris is talking to the cameraman, his fingers snipping at the air. For a moment Justin sees dark braids, revisits the constant need to touch, and his hand twitches in remembrance before he throws himself back into the routine. Concentrating hard on each move and pushing aside re-emerging emotions he has no business feeling.

~*~*~*~

Justin pulls off his bandanna, dropping it into the backseat of his car. He rests against the door, rolling his shoulders, the breeze cooling his sweat damp skin.

He briefly considers asking someone to drive him home, but rubs at his eyes and straightens instead, easing into his car. He waves at Joey and checks in the mirror for his rat dog, then starts to pull away, breaking sharply when he hears Chris yell.

"Justin, wait." Chris runs into view and drops his bag into the back of the car. He hops into the passenger seat and suddenly brushes his fingers across Justin’s neck, making him shiver at the touch.

Uncomfortable with his reaction, Justin grips the wheel tighter and reminds himself that Chris is suffering through a concealed break-up, is unaware of stirring long dead feelings.

"You had something stuck there." Chris holds out his hand, showing a silver sequin that has to have come from JC’s shirt.

"You sleeping over?" The _again_ hangs unspoken in the air, and Justin drums his fingers against the side of his car, beating out time.

"Is that a problem?" Chris doesn’t look at Justin, just keeps flipping through the CDs, frowning at the discs that shine under his touch.

"No, it’s all good."

Chris looks up then, and he drops the case onto his lap. "Because I do have other friends."

"I know, but no. My tv is your tv."

"Damn right." Chris leans back, eyes closed, and just _there_ , taunting Justin as he drives them home.

~*~*~*~

After weeks of practicing in the same room, moving rehearsal to Universal is a breath of fresh air. Parking next to the set, Justin reaches into his bag for a bandanna, movements automatic as he ties the knot and covers his hair. It’s early still but he’s wide awake, can feel the energy thrumming under his skin as he locks his car, sneakers scraping across the floor as he twists into a turn.

Inside the band are setting up instruments, and the air echoes with stray notes and voices. Justin greets each musician in turn, one armed hugs and words of hello as he dances between drums and keyboards, avoiding the thick cables that snake across the floor.

"Justin!"

Justin laughs when he’s grabbed around the waist, fingers digging into his flesh and Joey’s voice warm against his ear.

"I haven’t seen you in like, forever."

"You saw me, like six hours ago, you ass." Justin tries to squirm away from Joey’s prodding fingers, elbowing and using every dirty trick he knows.

"Like I said; forever." Joey digs in one last time and lets go, grinning at the camera as Justin smoothes down his clothes.

"Jerk." As a matter of principal, Justin punches Joey on the arm. "You’re in a good mood."

Joey throws out his arms. "We’re not in that room."

Understanding completely, Justin nods as Joey bursts into song loudly singing _Freedom_ , as he wanders away.

"Sometimes I wonder about him."

Justin blinks as Chris pulls up on a pushbike, his hand resting against Justin’s side for balance. In a positive change, he seems happy, and holds a shining parasol over his shoulder, hat pulled low over his eyes and he shakes his head as Joey grabs onto Lance with a pounce. He tsks at their silliness, and Justin would point out Chris is obviously the insane one if he hadn’t already pedalled away, parasol held high in the air.

The problem is, as he presses his hand to his own side, seeking out the warmth from Chris’ touch, Justin knows he’s clearly insane too.

~*~*~*~

Justin t-shirt is soaked through as he pulls himself upright once more. Hands behind his head, he counts down each rep, focussing on the numbers and each careful intake of breath. Hitting zero, he lays flat against the mat and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?"

Lynn holds out a bottle of water. Sitting, Justin takes it and presses the cool bottle against his face, rolling it over his flushed skin. He wonders how long she’s been watching and if he can makes excuses, say everything’s fine.

"Don’t even." Lynn folds down onto the mat and rests her hand on Justin’s knee. "Something’s on your mind."

"I guess." Justin knows there’s no point in denial, it’s his mom and she knows everything, but more important, Justin needs to talk, vent about the annoying flashbacks when he looks at Chris and it’s suddenly Europe once more. He worries at the bottle, dragging his fingernails across the ridges of the cap and wonders what to say. "Do you remember when I had that crush on Chris?"

"Sure." She smiles, encouraging Justin to go on when he pauses, looking for the words.

"I wanted him so badly back then." Justin looks at his mom. "I think I still do."

"You think or you know? There’s a huge difference." Lynn pauses, and Justin’s relieved at the love in her expression, the supportive touch of her hand against his knee.

"I don’t know." Justin rests his head in his hands. Sometimes he feels like he's at the top of a slippery slope leading back down to when he was fifteen, when Chris was everything and the world revolved around being at his side. "It’s stupid, I’m crushing on Chris again. It’s like, is once not enough?"

Frustrated, Justin drops his hands and looks at his mom. "How am I supposed to get things done if I’m mooning over Chris? I mean, why now? Couldn’t this stupid flashback happen while I was on vacation?"

"Things happen when they happen, honey. And sometimes the timing sucks, life’s a bitch that way." Justin looks at his mom, and she looks right back. "You’re an adult now; you have to make your own choices. But whatever you decide, you know I’m behind you all the way."

It’s not the answer Justin wants to hear, but he knows it’s right anyway. He’s not a kid, he’s not fifteen, now all he needs is for his stupid body to remember that too.

~*~*~*~

Justin runs up high on the arched bridge, looking down at the huge stage. He takes in the conveyer belts, the moving platform; ideas they tabled months before made into incredible reality. It’s awesome to see and he grins, toeing at the edge of the drop while he surveys the roadies who push equipment across the arena floor.

"Timberlake, get back from there!" Megaphone in hand, Anthony is glaring up from below. "I’m not having this tour ruined because you broke your legs the first day."

Obeying the command, Justin steps back, and waits for JC to walk up and join him.

"This is wild, man." JC indicates the stage with a sweep of his arm. His eyes sparkle as he looks around, his energy barely harnessed as he bounces on the balls of his feet. Justin can’t help smiling as he looks at him, feeding off his energy and ready to run, knowing JC is preparing to race away. "Come on!"

They sprint away, laughing as they jump the last few steps to the stage below, landing with a thump that makes Anthony look over with a scowl.

"What did I just say?"

"Sorry." Justin throws the apology over his shoulder, already running, JC giggling at his side.

~*~*~*~

Justin looks around the tree. He knows he’s been spotted, ratted out by Joey and his oh so obvious hints, but it’s fun to take a moment to play in the sunshine before starting work once more. "Hi. Alright, you got me." He addresses the camera and heads inside, greeting people on the way.

On stage Tony is already running through Digital Getdown, and Justin itches to join in, to lose himself in the music and perform. Impatient, he stashes his bag and heads for the stage, stopping when he sees Chris, bent over and tying his laces.

Justin takes a moment to admire the swell of Chris’ ass, the way his shorts are pulled tight across his thighs, but that’s all. No stupid rushes of emotion and he starts walking, hand raised to slap the tempting target of Chris ass.

"I don’t think so." Chris straightens, smirking as Justin drops his hand.

Hours later, Justin gulps at his water and watches a technician check over the conveyer belts, ensuring that they travel smoothly across the stage. He’s tired and yawns behind his hand as he watches the man step forward and quickly be carried away.

Unable to resist, Justin puts down his bottle and runs forward, stepping onto the belt. He stumbles on landing but quickly regains his balance, waving at the crew and jumping casually from the other side.

"I knew these would look good." Joey smiles happily as JC jumps onto a belt. Arms outspread like an oversized bird; he swoops gracefully toward them, then spoils the illusion when he jumps to the side, teetering unsteadily on landing and then collapsing to the floor. He lies spread-eagled on impact, dorky laughter echoing as Joey stands over him and applauds.

"And that ladies and gentlemen, is JC Chasez, our resident sex pot." Chris is talking to the camera; eyes alight with humour as he gestures towards JC. "As you can see he’s not the best dancer, but, well, he can sing a bit so we let him stay."

"Sex pot?" Justin repeats the words back at Chris as the camera zooms in on JC.

"Jealous, baby?" Chris turns to Justin, his gaze hot like fire as he moves forward and leans in close and whispers. "You know you’re my sex pot too."

Justin knows this game, and pulls on remembered words. "Too right I’m a sex pot. Shame I stopped being yours years ago." He forces a smile and grabs Chris’ sleeve. "Come on, you need to try."

They jump on the belts, and Justin’s soon laughing, emotions locked away as the camera watches them play.

Confident at being able to jump over a crouching Chris, Justin leaps, horrified when the moving belt messes him up and his foot catches Chris in the face. He steps to the side and runs to where Chris has slid off the belt, hands against his forehead.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean..." Justin drops to his knees and takes hold of Chris’ hands. "Let me see."

"It’s okay." Chris pulls his hands free. He’s squinting and rubbing at his watery eyes and Justin feels awful, his stomach clenching as he runs careful fingers over the red mark. "Really, Justin. I’m okay."

"I kicked you in the head."

"Believe me, I know." Chris winces as he pokes at his face, but his expression changes at Justin’s soft sound of distress. "Really, it’s fine. It’s not like you’ve never done it before." He considers Justin with a grin. "You know, if I didn’t know you wanted my hot bod I’d say you were trying to bump me off."

"Did want," Justin corrects automatically. "It’s not like I want your body now, though I am missing a gnome in my garden. You could sit next to the pond and fish." He grins at Chris’ dismissive wave of hand, then jumps when Anthony shouts almost in his ear.

"Kirkpatrick, go and get ice on that now. There’s going to be no bruises on my tour."

Justin sees the exact moment Chris decides against arguing; his mouth closing as he looks at Anthony’s glare and sighs.

"Go with him." It takes Justin a moment to realise the words are directed his way, and he looks up to see Anthony pointing at Chris. "Make sure he gets it iced, pin him down if you have to."

Chris hoots, all mischief as he presses close. "You want to pin me down, big boy?" His hand clasps around Justin’s wrist, and Justin’s heart skips, as he allows himself to be pulled toward the small catering area, where a runner is already waiting with ice.

"Sit down." Justin hooks a chair with his foot, the legs screeching across the floor. He pushes at Chris’ shoulder, and then watches carefully as Chris presses the cloth-covered ice against his face.

Pulling across his own chair, Justin turns it round, leaning against the back. "Are you okay?" Chris looks at him from under the cloth, visible eye slightly narrowed and clearly saying, ‘don’t fuss’. It’s unusually quiet, this still moment when they’re not working and Justin stares back, refusing to look away. "No, I mean with everything, with Dani. We haven’t really talked for a while."

"We talk all the time, and I’m fine." Chris drops the cloth onto the table. "Better than fine, never better, you could say." He smiles, savage and sharp. "Best thing that could happen really."

"So you’re fine." Chris’ words are flimsy and Justin reluctantly presses against them. "Look, I know you say you’re okay, but talking as your friend. I’m just not seeing that."

"What do you want me to say, Justin?" Chris’ smile wilts under Justin’s gaze. "That I miss her? Because I do. That I loved her? Because I did. But it ended for a reason."

"I never doubted that." Justin looks down at the table, runs his fingers through a spill of salt as the silence stretches between them, unusual and uncomfortable and Justin _has_ to speak. "It’s just. I worry."

"There’s no need." Chris rests his fingers over Justin’s hand, a fleeting touch matched with a smile. "I’m fine."

Justin knows he should leave it there, but there’s so much he can’t say, forbidden words hidden inside, and Justin has to say _something_. "She left you."

"It’s not that simple." Justin wants to know why, but he bites at his lip and waits as Chris nibbles at a fingernail, gaze far away. "She didn’t dump me." He looks up then. "Well, she did at first. When I came to yours, but she phoned last night, said we should try again."

"And you didn’t want to?" Justin’s surprised, and he can’t fit his brain around Chris saying no to the person that’s moped about for days.

"I thought about it, believe me. I thought about a crapload of stuff. House, dogs, hell, even kids. But it wouldn’t have been right." Chris is biting at his nail again and Justin’s sorry that he started this conversation, feeling guilty at the spark of hope he feels as he realises that Chris hadn’t been dumped at all. "There’s sort of, someone else." He sighs softly when Justin doesn’t react. "I didn’t cheat on her, I wouldn’t do that. It’s just. It wouldn’t be fair being with her when I’m thinking of someone else."

"Who?" Justin doesn’t want to hear the answer, but he has to ask.

"Someone I can’t have, so there’s no point on dwelling on it, and there’s no need for sympathy either, seeing as I haven’t had my heart broken. I don’t need any because I’m fine."

"You’re not very happy for someone that’s fine."

"Wade’s been on our case for hours, my feet are aching, I was hoisted miles above the earth this morning and I’ve just been kicked in the head." Chris frowns, and his hands sketch in the air. "This is as happy as I’m capable of looking right now."

Justin leans forward, his chest pressed against the edge of the chair as he considers. Chris doesn’t look happy, hasn’t for days now, but he’s willing to accept he’s okay. The Dani thing is another matter, and the tiny flicker of hope Justin thought he’d gained slips away. "I’m sorry, I didn’t realise." Justin stands and pushes his chair aside as he gathers Chris in a hug, holding him from behind. "If you ever want to talk...."

"I won’t."

Justin steps back, confused when Chris breaks out of his hold, grabs the ice pack and stalks away.

~*~*~*~

"Listen, Joey. You need to be down here by the sixteenth bar."

Justin yawns. He is listening to Wade really. They’ve worked too long and too hard to let things slip now and Justin fights exhaustion trying to achieve that perfection. He’s frustrated, tired, and it doesn’t help that Chris is acting weird, snapping at everything Justin says with no cause at all.

"Be in the middle, Joey." Justin wiggles his fingers, needing Joey to take his place. "Joey"!"

They reform and launch into the routine yet again, and again, taking as many times as needed to get it right. Until finally they break, scattering across the stage for water and towels.

"What’s up with you, man?"

Justin rubs the towel across his face. "Nothing." He talks through the fabric then drops the towel. He’s not surprised to see Joey watching him, clearly unconvinced by his reply.

"Right, you’ve been grouchy all day. That’s not you."

"I’m tired, I’m hungry. I’m sick of those damn routines. Will that do?" Justin snaps. He knows Joey will believe the excuses, unlike the Chris thing, which requires far too much explanation.

Joey does believe, and seems to take no offence at all. "I hear you." He looks over at Wade who’s still dancing, running through the routines on stage. "I swear he’s a robot."

It’s impossible to resist the crack. "Naw man, it’s just you getting old."

Joey growls, intent clear in his eyes. "I’ll show you old."

Justin tries to defend himself with a whip of his towel, but Joey picks him up easily, throwing him over his shoulder, and the world spins as they twirl around.

~*~*~*~

"Morning."

"Hey." Justin deliberately doesn’t ask if things are okay. He pushes past the unsettling feeling, ignoring the shadows under Chris’ eyes, the tension in his shoulders as he rummages in a bag.

"I brought you breakfast."

Justin takes the offered chocolate croissant, and knows it’s some kind of apology. He just wished he knew what for and why.

"Thanks." He takes a bite and pastry flakes down, landing on his chest.

"You need a bib." Something loosens in Justin’s chest as Chris smiles and pulls out a napkin, wiping at the smear of chocolate on Justin’s face. "There, good as new."

Chris takes a step back, and Justin can’t understand the look in his eye, the way his smile fades.

"I have to go talk to someone." Chris hurries away looking pissed off, and Justin has no idea why. He debates letting it go, but needs to know. So he runs to catch up and stands in Chris’ path.

"Look, have I done something? Because I’m getting the feeling we’re not okay, and I have no idea why." Justin is prepared to grab for Chris if he has to, to hold on if he tries to get away.

Chris glares, eyes narrowed and brows drawn together, but he stays still, arms crossed as he looks up. "You’ve done nothing, it’s just me. I’m in a weird mood is all. Give me five minutes and I’ll be back to my usual happy sunny self." Chris takes a deep breath, his body visually relaxing. "I’m sorry for snapping, okay and for yesterday too. It’s just, these last few days haven’t been the best."

"Tell me about it." Shaking his head at Chris’ inquiring look, Justin nudges him with his arm. "Come on, I need coffee with my croissant."

~*~*~*~

 

Justin holds his glass carefully; grip tight so none of the precious liquid spills. He takes a sip, blinking as the tiny umbrella just misses his eye. He tries to remove it, but it’s stealthy, slipping through his fingers like water, and Justin decides it’s better left alone.

"Honey, I’m going home. Do you want to ride with us?" His mom sounds close by, and Justin turns in a full circle until he sees her, standing in the doorway and looking amused.

"Mom." Justin flings opens his arms, and the stealth umbrella surfs to the floor on a wave of tropical punch. "Are you having fun?" It’s important that his mom is having a good time, and Justin walks toward her, stopping to eye the tiny pink umbrella with suspicion. Stealthy. Justin knew it. Getting from his drink to the floor without being seen.

"I’m having a great time." Lynn holds on as Justin lurches into her arms, and she laughs against his shoulder, her hand against his back. "Looks like you are too."

"I am. I really am. A very good time, the best party ever for the best tour ever." Justin nods seriously, and frowns when he tries to drink from his glass. "It’s empty."

"Probably just as well." Lynn twists in Justin’s hold, looking around. "You should come home, or get a soft drink at least."

"That’s a good idea, you’re so smart." Pressing a kiss against his mom’s hair, Justin steps back. He knows there are soft drinks somewhere, he just has to find them. "I’ll see you later, okay?"

He waves, and watches as his mom walks away to talk to one of the bodyguards, Mark or whatever his name is, her hands waving as she motions towards Justin. The guy nods, looking his way and Justin smiles, big and wide and happy. He loves his mom, and he loves might be Mark too.

Staggering slightly, Justin makes for the next room, sure he saw some drinks in there. He weaves past stragglers from the crew, saying hello and always smiling, happy to see them having fun, until he’s finally through the door.

He looks at the food tables, at the dishes mostly stripped bare, the bottles of coke sitting up in a tub of mostly melted ice, but most importantly, Chris, who’s sitting at a table, poking at a the remains of the yellow jello with a spoon.

"Chris!" Justin beams. He loves Chris, like _really_ loves him, except Chris loves someone else, and that makes his smile starts to slide. Then Chris looks up, and he’s so pretty, so beautiful, and Justin just wants to stand and stare, because he loves Chris. Loves him so much.

"Have you ever wondered how jello stands up? It’s like, liquid at first, then turns solid. That’s like, magic." Chris pokes at the jello again, and Justin watches as it wobbles in place.

"I think it _is_ magic." Justin steps forward and flicks his finger at the jello, giggling when he makes it move.

"I like jello." Chris is looking down at the plate, eyes big and huge, and Justin wants to cry because it’s so sad. Chris likes jello but he hasn’t got any, and that’s just wrong.

"Here." Justin scoops with his hand, and drops a wobbling lump of jello onto the table.

Chris looks down. "Thank you." He picks at a corner and eats, sucking his fingers clean and Justin can’t look away, fixated by the movement of Chris’ lips, the teasing hint of his tongue as he licks at his own skin, until he lets his hand drop. "You should have some too."

Justin watches as Chris claws at the jello. He sees the glint in his eyes, the way Chris pulls up his hand, but Justin can’t move, and gasps when a shining yellow blob hits him square in the chest.

"Bullseye," Chris yells, and he scrambles to his feet, stumbling and laughing as Justin looks around the table for his own ammunition.

Soon food is flying, and Justin’s covered. Dip slicks down his face and a cream cake is squished into his neck, but he keeps firing, bombarding Chris with cake. Any wandering party guests driven away as the air fills with flying food.

They’re both breathless with laughter, and Justin grabs a cream cake, circling around the table, ignoring the mini quiches that pepper his body. Victory is in his sights when he stands over Chris, cream cake in hand and ready to be thrown, but Chris has luck on his side. Justin steps on the remains of a bowlful of prawns upended on the floor, and he falls to the ground in a tangle of arms, legs and most of the rest of the food, as he pulls the tablecloth with him.

"Are you okay?" Chris is looking down at him, so close and pretty and just _there_ and Justin can’t help reaching up, grabbing a handful of Chris’ shirt and pulling, tugging hard so Chris falls, heavy against Justin’s chest.

Justin oofs, but his hands are already on Chris’ back, holding him close, needing him so badly, and this is one of the stupidest things Justin has ever done, but he doesn’t care, just cranes his neck when Chris stills and stares down at him.

"You’re still so big and strong."

Justin doesn’t understand what Chris is saying but none of that matters, because Chris’ mouth opens as Justin presses close, licking across chapped lips, tiny touches and Chris has his hands wrapped around the top of Justin’s arms, holding on as he sighs against Justin’s mouth. Bolder now, Justin applies more pressure, meeting Chris’ tongue with his own, and his hands clench as he wraps his leg around Chris’, pulling him even closer and everything is Chris, every touch, every taste and Justin knows this is right.

"We should go."

Justin doesn’t want to move, but Chris is pushing himself up, straddling Justin’s thighs, his legs tight against Justin’s sides. Sighing at the pressure, the solid weight of Chris pressing him down, Justin rolls his hips and rests his hand on one of Chris’ knees. He looks up and Chris is watching, pupils huge as he strokes his hand across Justin’s cheek, and Justin shivers, arching into the touch.

"Come on." Chris stands and Justin mourns the contact. Then his hand is in Chris’ and he’s pulled to his feet with one dizzying pull, and Justin sways, matching time to the world that spins around him.

Justin blinks as the world slows, clicking back into place, and he plasters himself against Chris, moulding himself against his back. They fit perfectly, and Justin doesn’t wonder at that, just snatches a kiss as Chris tips back his head, his hair brushing against Justin’s chin.

"This way." Justin reluctantly breaks free and they circle the room, pulling at doors that remain stubbornly locked. Justin is getting frustrated, debating just leaving this room and finding somewhere else, because Chris is so _there_ and Justin is going to break down a door if one doesn’t open soon. Then finally, one opens and they stumble into some kind of storage cupboard, a mop jabbing in Justin’s back as Chris presses him against a wall.

It’s a cliché, but Justin doesn’t care, not when Chris is licking at the cream smeared on Justin’s neck. His fingers fumble over buttons until Justin’s shirt falls open, allowing Chris to kiss over his collarbone, mouthing against Justin’s skin, a hot trail of kisses down to Justin’s chest, and he grips Chris’ shoulders, digging in and holding on.

"Come on. Come on." Justin listens to his own pleas, the need in his voice, and he wavers as Chris’ hand slides lower, dipping under the loose waistband of Justin’s jeans, teasing with touch. Justin pants for breath, shivering at the feel of fingers sliding over his skin, moaning when Chris finally touches his dick.

Justin is thrusting into Chris’ hand, his hips jerking forward and it’s perfect but still not enough. Fingers against rough stubble, Justin tilts up Chris’ chin, bending down for a kiss. He licks at Chris’ mouth, deepening the kiss as Chris pushes the pace, and Justin matches it easily, slamming forward again and again and his legs tremble as he gropes for the wall. His fingers scraping against the smooth surface as fire liquefies his bones, fierce and intense, leaving him whimpering against Chris’ mouth.

~*~*~*~

Justin wakes and groans. His head feels too big for his body, his tongue coated and rough. He moves carefully, breathing through the nausea that threatens as he clambers out of bed and makes for the bathroom with tiny precise steps.

Wincing at the flare of bright light he braces his hands on the counter, steeling himself to look in the mirror. Justin cringes when he does so, staring at his red tinged eyes, his pale skin and a patch of matted hair. Puzzled, he pats at his crusted curls, white flakes falling to the floor, and pulls off his stained shirt, which smells disgustingly like soured cream and fish. Justin drops it to the floor, and kicks off his pants, gasping at the tug of hair.

Memories hit, and Justin didn’t think it was possible, but he feels even worse, guilt lying heavy with the frustration he won’t be able to do it again.

~*~*~*~

The journey to Dacoma seems to last forever. Justin wants to prove that making out in the cupboard meant nothing, and he consciously ignores the undercurrents that run between the two of them as he laughs at Chris’ jokes, determined that everything will be normal, the way it should be.

Joey’s rat-dog runs between them and the camera captures their every move. It’s noisy and crowded, but that suits Justin fine as he squeezes onto the couch with JC and Lance, joining in their laugher as they watch the fans run and scream, their own light relief before the start of the show.

Finally, they arrive, and show time crawls closer. Justin needs to move, to get up on stage and perform, but there’s hours yet, and he spends most of them talking to the crew, then hidden in wardrobe, tucked behind a rail of shirts as he reads. Saved from Chris’ pointed looks, the ones that clearly say _we need to talk_ , even as Justin pretends he doesn’t know what they mean.

Eventually it’s time, and Justin stands in the wings. "I’m about to do it, about to go onstage, this is it." Justin talks to the camera and the screams are deafening. His heart thundering as Anthony pulls him away. "The stagehand is pulling me, I’ve got to go." Justin looks back and walks behind the curtain. He takes up his position, looks around, at JC, Chris, Lance and Joey, poised and ready, the noise crashing over them as they walk into view.

~*~*~*~

"Justin, this is stupid. Let me in."

Justin pulls the pillow over his head, but he can still hear the banging, and finally crawls out of bed before Chris can knock some more.

"That’s so annoying."

Chris is unrepentant and pushes past Justin. "You should have answered earlier then."

Justin’s fuzzy-headed with sleep and thoroughly unprepared to deal with this right now, and he retreats into the bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face he thinks about showering and putting off the talk, but he knows Chris. A locked bathroom door is no barrier when Chris really wants to talk.

Face scrubbed dry, Justin walks back out, leaning against the wall as Chris paces the room. "What do you want?"

"I’ve brought you breakfast in bed." Chris looks at Justin. He throws a candy bar on the bed and it rolls across the rumpled blankets, ending on the floor. It’s hard to resist picking it up and beating Chris about the head, and Justin knows he’s probably broadcasting every thought as Chris glares at him. "This is stupid. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have kissed you, shouldn’t have dragged you into that closet, but it’s done now. So let’s forget about it and move on."

"You hardly dragged me, and I kissed _you_."

Chris stares, and Justin can’t blame him. This isn’t how this conversation’s supposed to go at all.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes it matters." Justin is almost yelling, and he wants to get Chris and shake him, because Justin kissed him and it was wrong, and why doesn’t Chris realise that? "I kissed you."

"I know that." Chris _is_ yelling. "I was there remember, for every mind-blowing moment."

"Wait." Justin’s thoughts are twisting through his head, and he rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "You thought it was mind-blowing? For real?"

"No, I’m just saying it to flatter your ego." Chris’ eyes glitter dangerously, and then he’s pacing again, short angry steps until he stops and faces Justin once more. "Of course for real. It was like some kind of fantasy, you and food, and man; I can’t believe I just admitted that?"

"You have fantasies about me?" Justin has to have heard wrong, and he bats at his ear with the palm of his hand.

"Didn’t I just tell you that?" Chris’ anger is deflating now, and he stands frozen. ""Look, this is stupid. You had a crush years ago, we got drunk, we made out. It was a mistake, the end. Yeah. And, you know, I appreciate a pity fuck as much as the next man, but not -- not from you, okay? Not from you. I don't want anything from you unless --" Chris bites off the words.

"You were thinking about _me_." Realisation dawns, and Justin feels like dancing.

"Yeah, and now I’m going, we’re getting nowhere."

"No you’re not." Justin’s never been as certain of anything. "You’re right, I haven’t got a crush any more. Crushes are kids stuff, and I’m no kid." He places his hand on Chris’, holding on, and waits until he understands.

"Oh." Taking advantage of Chris’ surprise, Justin bends forward, using kisses to show how he feels. Sharing long sweet kisses, his tongue stroking over Chris’ mouth, his lips, his teeth, bold touches and Justin feels dizzy, steers them back to collapse on the bed.

"I like you, like, a lot." Some words need to be said, and Justin strokes his hand over Chris’ back, watching him process the words. Then Chris smiles, a soft curve of lips as Justin steals another kiss, knowing this time, things really are fine.  



End file.
